Birds, Bees and Blossoms
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Laurel has to explain to her parents why faeries blossom.


Birds, Bees and Blossoms

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Wings

Copyright: Aprilynne Pike

It was, of course, Laurel's father who asked the awkward question, rather than her mother, who was of the opinion that the less said about the faerie world, the better. The three of them were having dinner – spaghetti bolognese for the humans, a bunch of grapes for Laurel – and Mark Sewell had been stealing glances at his foster-daughter's wide, blue, four-petaled blossom all day.

"Say, Laurel … it's really pretty. Your blossom, I mean. But is there anything else to it? I mean, is it there for decoration or … something else?"

Laurel lowered her eyes onto the wood grain of the table, rigid with embarrassment. She should have known this was coming.

"Um … yes … "

"Is it something we mere mortals can be let in on?"

"Mark," Sarah said sharply, with a suspicious pucker around the corners of her mouth. "If she doesn't want to tell us, she doesn't have to."

_You just don't want to hear anything weird, _Laurel thought, with a glare in her mother's direction. Out of sheer contrarines, she decided that they might as well know.

She took a deep breath and a fortifying sip of Sprite.

"All faerie women have blossoms," she said. "That's because we're plants. And how to plants reproduce?" She spread her hands.

Sarah nearly choked on a bite of noodles, coughed, and tossed down half of her orange juice before she could speak again. "You mean - ? Good Lord."

Mark's smile became rather shaky. "Ah … does that mean we should keep you away from bees?"

Laurel giggled, a little hysterically. "No, Dad. It's not like that. Faerie men have – pollen – on their hands, so like, when a couple decides to have a baby, he just has to touch her blossom. And then that makes a seed, and they plant them in a special garden where professionals look after it, and then the seed sprouts and grows and blooms into a baby. So yeah."

Sh decided to leave out the aging issues; things were complicated enough already.

"Well," said Sarah, sounding rather breathless. "No wonder you never started your period."

Laurel shrugged and spread her palms out again in a there-you-are gesture.

"Does that mean you don't … faeries don't … "

"Have sex?" She was already mortified enough; a little more bluntness couldn't hurt. "Yes, actually. They do. Stop looking at me like that. I'm still me, and I wouldn't sleep around randomly just because I can't get pregnant."

"I bloody well hope not," said Sarah. Mark said nothing; he was beginning to look a little queasy, as if the information were too much for him.

"And before you ask, I have no idea if it's possible to catch STD's," Laurel plunged on. "I'm different on a cellular level, remember? And I don't know if there are any faerie STD's. And I'd _really _rather not take that risk, thank you very much."

Sarah jumped to her feet, bowled over the chair, and with a final helpless shake of her wavy gray-blonde hair, she rushed out of the room. Laurel stared at the sliding door, feeling something like a painful knot growing in her throat.

"I should've known it was a bad idea to tell you," she muttered.

Mark cleared his throat, reached across the table and squeezed Laurel's hand.

"She'll adjust," he said. "It's a lot to take in, you know. Give her time."

"How _much_ time?" Laurel knew she was whining, but she couldn't help it. Why couldn't her mother simply accept her the way she was?

"As long as it takes. Laurel … "

"Yes?"

"You know your mother has a medical condition that's made it nearly impossible to become pregnant. And now, hearing about people – _your _people – whose babies grow in flowers, just like that …. " He shook his head and sighed. "It sounds so easy. And it's upset her."

Laurel buried her face in her hands, tears tricking through her fingers. She had forgotten. This was why she had no human brothers or sisters. She was the only child Sarah had ever had, and technically, not even her child at all.

"Sarah loves you," said Mark. "She's afraid you're moving away from her, what with all this faerie business, and she's angry and confused. Try to understand, won't you?"

She nodded.

"I trust you, Laurel. Your physiology may be different – heck, a _lot_ different – but you're still the little girl we raised. I trust you to make the right decisions when it comes to your … lifestyle. Got it?"

"Thanks, Dad." She smiled, got up and gave him a grateful hug.


End file.
